


Phosphenes

by The_Readers_Muse



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, EVERYONE WANTS A PIECE OF TOBIN SO THEY GET HIM, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Partners, Nudity, Oral Sex, Orgy, Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-03 21:06:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6626293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Readers_Muse/pseuds/The_Readers_Muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The casserole dish had shattered.</p><p>He remembered that now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nocturnallly](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nocturnallly).



> Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.
> 
> Authors Note #1: For nocturnallly who wanted Tobin to get all the love when the fandom was upset that people, including Carol, might want a piece of tol, nice and handsome.
> 
> Warnings: orgy (for real-real), multiple pairings, sexual content, nudity, mild language, dub-con but not really (I swear that actually makes sense), twist ending.

He'd like to say he woke up suddenly. That the moment he internalized there was at least four unfamiliar bodies pressed up against him - legs slung over his, someone's back up against his right hip and an arm slung possessively across his chest - that he'd jerked up. Flailed in place. Maybe even shouted a bit. Or, at the very least, demanded to know what the hell was going on. But he didn't.

He didn't because no matter how much the world had changed, thinking things through was still about nine tenths his own personal religion. It was just his way of doing things, he supposed. He'd learned the hard way growing up. Being taller, stronger and heavier than everyone else all the way to college had made him cautious and overly conscious of that difference when push came to shove.

Instead, he just blinked up at the ceiling as someone snored unconcernedly in his ear. Everything around him lethargic and soft. Good and right in a way things rarely were outside of fiction. Honestly wondering how he got himself into these sort of situations as the tangled mess of limbs contracted and expanded with the same living heartbeat.

He concentrated, trying piece it all together.

The last thing he remembered was knocking on the door to return a casserole dish.

Carol had been oddly specific of the time.

But other than that, nothing.

Unless-

_Nah._

He cracked off a yawn. Getting the important bits in greyscale flashes and off-centre thrums as he looked around carefully. Craning his neck as much as he could without disturbing the others as muted astonishment reigned. He was in the center of it. The focal point. Almost like this had been planned. Purposeful.

His eyebrow crooked up.

_It was a hell of a thought._

And yet-

Beside him someone stirred, rumbling a contented sound in the back of their throat, endearing enough that it made him look. The action itself was lazy, so full and uninhibited that it took a moment to realize exactly who he was looking at. Getting an eyeful of a stubby jawline and the calloused flat of a hand draped over his shoulder as his heart hiccupped through a beat.

That was when the rest of it all just sort of- _clicked_.

* * *

The casserole dish had shattered.

He remembered that now.

The door had been open a crack when he'd come up the front steps. Not enough to set off alarm bells, but enough that his light knock sent it whooshing inwards. Wincing a bit when he misjudged the force behind it as the door thudded back against the stop with an embarrassing _sp-sp-sprooooing_.

"Carol? I have the dish, are you-"

It took a moment for what he was seeing to really sink in. Leaning slightly to port as the door creaked back, adding a layer of impossibility as he stepped forward. Mouth falling open as the whole group of them - including Aaron, Eric and Spencer – all the adults from Rick's group were in the living room, waiting for him.

_Naked._

He took a step back, mouth working through a strangled jumble of syllables. Stumbling a bit when his heel flipped up the entry rug. Killing the momentum of his retreat as he baulked. The casserole dish slipping clean from his fingers when Carol and Rick all but _slithered_ from the tangle that more or less covered one of the far couches and pattered – bare foot and without shame – towards him.

"We've been waiting for you," Carol hummed, pleased. The same little smile she usually gifted him with threatening to stretch across her face as Rick hemmed her in from behind. Resting his hands on her hips and leaning into the flush of her as Sasha, Rosita and Spencer trailed sedately in their wake.

His eyes felt too big for his face. Not sure where to look or what the hell was going on as Michonne watched him, sphinx-like and regal from her perch on the back of the couch. Carding her hands through Glenn and Maggie's hair as they stayed where they were. Curled up and distinctly self-satisfied underneath her.

"We've been wanting you to join us," Sasha agreed, head crooking up to meet his as her hand trailed down the long of his arm. The action leaving him close to floundering as he tried to figure out when the hell she'd even _moved_.

He went without protest, too shocked to do anything else when Spencer and Eugene eased him over the broken dish and further into the room. Hands curling around the point of his elbows and lingering down his sides before fluttering away again – coy and easy.

"About fuckin' time too," Abraham cracked from the sidelines, the muscles in his chest over-defined in the low, afternoon light still streaming through the gaps in the blinds. Swirling the dust motes until the scene took on an ethereal quality. Giving Carol an indulgent little nudge as the man swayed over. Cupping the small of her breasts and tweaking her nipples gently as she arched back into him. Pressing a kiss into the rough underneath his chin as Abraham watched him with dark, assessing eyes. "Someone's been hoggin' big, tall and plaid all for herself. We're aimin' to change that."

The rest were around him - not quite hemming him in but just about the gentlest equivalent there was - before he could make any sort of decision. Trying to keep his breathing even as a skittish and growingly hysterical part of him shrilled that this was almost exactly like one of those ridiculous math problems they stuck you with in high school. Only instead of how much time Jimmy Dodgerson needed to walk across town during rush hour with 45kg of groceries, it was-

"You don't have to do anythang' you don't want to," Rick told him, leaning into him from behind before circling back around. "But we've been waitin' on ya. And we're patient."

There were clever hands making tracks down the buttons of his shirt. Easing it off his shoulders and letting it drape, useless across the small of his back as Tara and Father Gabriel smiled up at him. Popping the small buttons along the cuffs until it gave in to gravity and puddled across the floor. Leaving him in jeans and his undershirt – exposed but almost overheated as the freckled span of his collarbone flushed red.

"This isn't a free party. It's something we decided on together, _all of us_. This is what we are – what we were on the road - and now what we are here. It just makes sense," Rick continued, standing square in front of him like he was waiting for an answer.

For a dangerous fraction of beats he could barely breathe.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Nothing close to words at any rate.

Just the flat of his tongue slicking across his lower lip.

_Nervous._

"It's alright," Aaron told him, smiling. Taking control of one side as he stumbled into the living room. Feet moving without his consent as Eric took his hand. Lacing thin fingers between his as all the muscles in his hand threatened to seize. "They welcomed us the same way, not long after we brought them here. We knew- we saw them all together. It wasn't like anything else we'd ever seen. It was better. Rick is right, it just makes sense."

He chanced a look up and around the room. Getting conned into watching Carol approach, desperate for familiar things as she leaned into him. Going up on her tip-toes for a kiss he couldn't help but return. Feeling the warm weight of the others moving around them.

_Touching._

_Lingering._

_Stroking._

He could have said no.

He knew that.

But-

The sound of someone clearing their throat made him look up. Realizing Daryl was watching him through the messy fringe of his bangs from the other side of the room. Slowly unfolding himself from the chair he'd been sitting on as Rick and Carol lifted the thin of his undershirt up and up until he had no choice but to lift his arms and duck down so they could pull it off. Feeling like he'd missed something important in that smattering of seconds he'd been blinded as the muscles in Daryl's thighs flexed and released – stretching out. Cock half-hard against hair-speckled skin, highlighting the scars that seemed to cover him no matter where you tried to advert your eyes.

"This ain't something you gotta take to," Daryl rasped, surprising him when he ambled close. Able to count the number of words the man had directed at him before this on one hand alone. Watching with wide-eyes when Rick, Aaron and Eric all laid hands on him as he passed. Soft. Encouraging. And seeped in an easy sort of meaning that he was only just starting to understand.

"But it's something you can be. We're stronger this way," the man finished, easing in beside him. Following the others lead like the last domino falling as Daryl's hand burned like a brand on his bare chest. Tracing down from neck to navel. Clipping his belt-buckle with a damning little jingle as Carol looked up at him encouragingly.

He sucked in an unsteady breath. The muscles in his stomach jumping, self-conscious and unsettled when someone – Rosita – wrapped their arms around him from behind. Mortified, but animally-pleased on a level that surpassed everything else when he realized he was hard. Cock pressing up almost painfully tight against the zipper of his jeans as more than a few eyes flicked south when he shifted.

_Interested._

There were a couple hundred things he should have said.

That he _could_ have said.

Things that should have come to mind to ask first.

Excuses.

_Anything._

But for some reason the only thing that gained traction was this-

"Why-" he started, unsteady in his own skin despite a rising haze of heat building like arousal under his skin. Unfurling and reaching out as something in him decided to make his life ten times more difficult by wondering what it would be like to give in and let them have him. "Why me? I don't- I'm not-"

Their smiles were contagious as they condensed around him. A dozen hands reaching -greedy and endearing all at once - as they pulled him down towards the nearest couch. Fingers tangling in his belt as Rick caught him by the chin and tipped his jaw up. Trailing filthy, open-mouthed kisses down the pale of his neck as he swallowed convulsively. Grabbing the man by the arm like he needed an anchor as his jeans puddled around his ankles and he caught a glimpse of Carol on her knees in front of him.

"Let us show you…"

* * *

It was heady, being in the center of it.

Like a high without a drug.

It made everything meld and blur in the best possible way. Frustrating only in hindsight when he tried to re-live it and realized he couldn't separate one moment from another. One person from another. One act. One tangle. _One anything._

Which left him with the prime cuts.

The moments that stuck with you for whatever reason.

Things like Aaron and Eric curled around each other, backs sheened with sweat as they moved together. Drawing it out like they knew he was watching. Showing him what it meant to love this way as Maggie and Tara kissed across his chest – languid and slow.

Things like holding Rick's eyes when he came down the man's throat with a bitten off curse. Managing to forget that there was nothing dignified about desperation when Rosita rolled on top of him and took him deep. Riding him with a tight little rhythm that made his head spin. Mouth too busy to say a word about it when Michonne guided his fingers into the deep slick of her. His tongue already busy, curling and flicking around the tip of- someone's, maybe Spencer's – cock.

Things like getting a lesson on learning how to breathe between heart beats when lube-slick fingers planted themselves on either side of his head. Giving control back to gravity as he made Daryl grunt with the thick of it, swallowing around his cock as Rick and Carol teased his hole. Trailing wet fingers around and around until he shattered in a way he didn't even know was possible.

Things like-

* * *

He blinked himself back to the present.

The action was exaggerated.

He'd admit that much.

But honestly, it was no less genuine from where he was sitting currently.

He looked around him, breathing slow like part of him was still courting sleep as Eugene murmured something indistinguishable before flomping over onto his side. Feeling something that had the same hallmarks as pleasure simmer low in his gut as the others slept on around him.

_Belonging._

_Affection._

_All with room to grow._

Still, there was something off about all this.

Almost like he was forgetting something.

_But what?_

He yawned, frowning through the tail-end as the strange feeling threatened to leech through. Something that tickled in the farthest reaches of his conscious mind, whispering caution. Clamoring for his attention as he blinked away a strange double vision. Reminding him of the strangely familiar significance his mind had placed on the words somewhere in the middle of the night when he'd woken up to Carol and Daryl budged up on either side of him. Whispering into the dark as they played at holding hands over the broad of his chest.

_"We're stronger together than we are apart."_

The longer the feeling stuck around the more impossible it became to ignore.

_He'd heard that phrase somewhere before._

_He was sure of it._

_But where?_

He squinted, rubbing his eyes. Swearing for a split-second that he was somewhere else. That he was _seeing_ somewhere else. There were stream-lined walls, the outline of a face and a blinding blaze of golden-yellow light set against a mass of dark, endless sky. Something he knew was absolutely impossible but there all the same, wreathed in low-frequency static.

_What the hell?_

In the end, he shook it away. Deciding that it was just exhaustion rearing its head as Rick hummed a negative beside him, pulling him back down into the pile with the hook of his arm. Unable to muffle the pleased smile that spread outwards like affirmation as Carol, Sasha and Daryl budged close. Covering him over as Eric's long fingers feathered through his hair. Getting the reverberations of the action second hand when Aaron yawned from where he was splayed over the red-head's chest. Unable to do anything else but smile sleepily – heavy with it - when Abraham let out a rattling snore from somewhere underneath Tara, Maggie and Glenn near the outskirts of the pile.

There would be time for explanations and questions later.

There would be time for all of it.

And with that thought warmly entrenched, sleep came far easier and sweeter than it ever had.


	2. Chapter 2

Aboard the Starship Alexandria, a frustrated dead silence was the common denominator as the bridge crew watched Extraction Specialist Tobin Adams' brain waves revert back into the code of the alien program.

"Damnit," Sub-Commander Walsh growled. Not bothering to ask if they could get him back as Ensign Kendal and Ensign Basset hunched over the controls, fingers flying.

"I don't care what you have to do. We have our door, now tear down the wall!" Sub-Commander Walsh insisted, running a frustrated hand through his closely shorn hair. "The idea was to get the survivors of the USS Atlanta, the USS Drifter and Lifepod Greene out of there. Not trap another of our own inside the program. Specialist Tobin has the training, he's one of the best. We can reach him. The longer we wait-"

He was cut off mid-sentence when the telltale _whoosh_ of the ready room door cut through the rising murmur of conversation.

"Status report," Admiral Monroe opened. Striding onto the bridge as Commander Horvath, Doctor Greene, Mrs. Grimes and Extraction Specialist Nicholas Trayvor followed in her wake.

"Admiral on deck!" Acting Ensign Noah Revorn announced, jerking to his feet with a small wince as he forgot his bad leg. Still dealing with the injuries he'd suffered when the USS Grady had sustained heavy damage after a run in with what they believed to be the same hostile species that had planted the virus in the USS Altanta's computer matrix.

"At ease," she allowed, red uniform pristine and pleated smartly to the right as she joined Commander Walsh by the view screen.

"We had him, ma'am," Commander Walsh answered, visibly frustrated as Doctor Candace and Edwin Jenner indicated to the display that showed the spike. "For a full five seconds his brain waves altered out of the program's coding. He started to question things, then-"

"What went wrong?" Admiral Monroe asked.

"The virus adapted," Lieutenant Jacqui Delong answered simply. Giving the man an unimpressed look when Combat Specialist Merle Dixon snorted dismissively from the corner.

"The man simply saw no reason to leave is all. He had a good thing going and both his upstairs and his downstairs brain decided to run with it," the man cracked, leaning up against the bulkhead as he surveyed the room with a cocky edge – still wearing his USS Atlanta uniform and body armor. Clicking his tongue with an exaggerated sound before knocking a sloppy salute to the Admiral like an afterthought. "Ain't no one going to second guess a windfall like _that_."

Sub-Commander Walsh opened his mouth to reprimand him – tensions high - but the Admiral only held up her hand for silence. Turning back to the three of them before motioning them to continue.

"We are only just beginning to understand what this thing is capable of. Think of it like a defense mechanism – this was the virus' way of keeping its host under control," Doctor Edwin Jenner explained, tapping at the readouts of the people still stuck in the simulation and scrolling pointedly through.

"Essentially what happened when Captain Grimes entered the simulation to rescue those trapped inside, the program rewrote itself down to its basic code. So instead of having a couple dozen people stuck in the same auditory and visual hallucination across Holodecks one through twenty-five, it used Captain Grimes as a focal point to center the narrative, thus strengthening the illusion. He connected everyone under the same arc," Doctor Candace Jenner added, skimming through the data and vital signs from everyone still trapped in the Holodecks as it appeared in real time.

"It was why we almost lost them when we tried to interject a new scenario when we took on the survivors of all three vessels. Creating the "Alexandria Safe Zone" in the hopes that we could nudge them in the right direction. Get them thinking. The only problem was that despite the chip from Bio-Engineering, as soon as Specialist Tobin, Rear Admiral Monroe, Lieutenant Commander Aaron Lessen, Lieutenant Eric Raleigh and the rest of the rescue party connected to the simulation, we lost control almost immediately," Lieutenant Jacqui Delong stated, eyes tired as the steady beep of Tobin's life signs – low and gentle with sleep – echoed depressingly across the bridge.

"I understand. Hell, I was there. But where does this leave us?" Admiral Monroe questioned, looking at the group ringed around her. "We all know self-ejection from the simulation is possible, as unfortunate as the method usually is. But Specialist Tobin was sent in with the same orders as all of us, to attempt a mass ejection of the entire simulation, instead-"

"We got a rerun of love city with-"

"Yes, thank you Mr. Dixon, that will be quite enough," she answered crisply, not bothering to look at the man in question but not quite willing to kick him off her bridge either. They were all in this together now, after all. And Dixon did have valuable insights – as sparingly as they came. But more importantly, his brother, Sub-Lieutenant Daryl Dixon from The USS Atlanta's Engineering sector, had been in the simulation from the beginning. He'd been running a repair program in Holodeck fourteen when the alien program had infected their key systems. And if there was anyone that knew a way to get to his younger brother, it was Specialist Dixon.

"In a sense, it shows the adaptability and perseverance of the human spirit," Commander Horvath commented, rubbing at the scruff on his chin with a faraway expression as the main viewer showed the system's only sun, A5-678-Beta, haloing across the hull in an arc of golden light. Perhaps remembering his own brief time in the simulation as a shadow fell across his craggy features.

"The horrors we are willing to accept and overcome as a group, to look at and face without flinching. Yet it is often our belief in our own self-worth, our desirability - physically or otherwise - that brings up that niggle of self-doubt. What does that say about us as a species? The terrible things we're willing to go through and accept because we think we deserve them?"

The silence that followed the observation was uncomfortable and heavy.

"We need to get them out of there," Sub-Commander Walsh gritted, glancing over at Mrs. Grimes before looking pointedly away. "The longer they're connected to this thing the worse they are going to be coming out. Those from the USS Atlanta especially. Things have already gotten complicated enough."

"I am well aware, Sub-Commander," Admiral Monroe returned, allowing herself a beat to send her husband a steady smile before turning back to the matter at hand. Leaning up against the railing as she fixed Walsh with a look that broached no argument. "Our oldest son is still in the simulation, Sub-Commander. Along with some of my best crew and the survivors from three different vessels, all now under my responsibly. So believe me when I tell you, _I know_."

"Tensions are high," she allowed, raising her voice an octave as she looked around them, addressing the Bridge at large. "I know we are all worried about our loved ones, our colleagues and friends, but this back and forth is wasting time. We need to work together to get our people home. They've suffered enough and they are counting on us now."

She let that sink in before turning back to the officers ringed around her. Keenly aware of the awkward rustling taking place behind them as half a dozen officers and crewmen adjusted themselves in their seats and got back to work.

"We've been briefing Extraction Specialist Nicholas Trayvor on his ejection from the program," she informed them, turning to the man in question as he gave the group an assenting nod. Looking a far cry different from his last moments in the simulation with his hair slicked back, uniform pressed and pristine. Clearly back in his element despite the trauma he'd suffered and the lingering awkwardness that still existed between Acting Ensign Noah Revorn and her youngest son, Aiden. "So far, his ability to disassociate from the virus's programming is our most promising lead."

Doctor Hershel Greene cleared his throat, looking up from his data pad as he took the silent cue to expand on the conversation.

"The data we gained from that event has been invaluable. In what amounted to a day on the program, from start to finish, his readouts were all over the place. Accumulating in enough conflicting signals to cause him to-"

"Eat a bullet?" Dixon offered, leering over at them as Nicholas shifted in discomfort.

"If you insist on putting it bluntly," Doctor Greene allowed, but not looking particularly pleased at the addition as he gestured towards his pad. "Specialist Tobin's brain waves were beginning to edge towards the same patterns, but far less violently. It is, I believe, accurate to suggest that if given a fresh angle we could coax Tobin back into the same mind-set now that that question – _that doubt_ \- has been planted. If we are successful in achieving a gradual realization, the ability for him to spread these suspicions, the truth about the program to the others, is a distinct possibility."

"That would ideal, the best case scenario," Nicholas remarked slowly, squaring his shoulders in fractions as she nodded for him to talk openly. "Truth is, I might be out of the program, but I don't recommend my mode of extraction. This program isn't like anything we ever trained for. It gets into your head. I was barely lucid for parts of the last day, despite Glenn's- _Ensign Rhee_ trying to get through to me. It felt like I was being pulled apart – mentally, physically, emotionally – eventually I couldn't handle the dissonance. The feeling that something wasn't right. That the ground wasn't the ground and the people around me weren't the people I thought they were – _they thought they were._ But I tipped off the edge too fast. I didn't have time to adjust and I burned out. I just wanted out – I wanted it to stop."

She rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, feeling a burst of sympathy and solidarity as she remembered her last moments in the program. Firing down the hallway at the stumbling crowd of walkers. Then waking up suddenly in the Holodeck on a medical bed, still screaming as the phantom fission of pain from aching joints and tearing mouths coasted through her nervous system like a thousand spiraling echoes.

"Until we can replicate what Specialist Trayvor did, we need to play every advantage we have," she finished firmly, nodding to the Sub-Commander. "Where do we stand on that currently, Lieutenant Delong?"

"At this point we're still trying to find ways to interject a realm of impossibility into the narrative in the hopes that it will call the simulation itself into question," the Lieutenant answered, sharing a look with Doctor Candace and Edwin Jenner as the latter sighed and typed a string of code into the latest update from Medical.

"Speaking of which," Sub-Commander Walsh interjected, leaning over the console to fix Lieutenant Commander Andrea Harrison with a look as she pried a control panel off the rear compartment where they'd patched main Holodeck controls through. "When I said any way you can stir things up, _this_ wasn't what I had in mind."

"I had nothing to do with it," she grunted, throwing her hand out for the hydro-spanner as Crewman Axel Temple handed it to her. Not really acknowledging the man hovering over her save for a discomforted twitch in her cheek. Like she was angry about something she wasn't sure how to express as the answer came from further down the console.

"No one did. It was a group consensus, sir," Crewman First Class Oscar Ward added, tall frame perching awkwardly in his chair as he pointed at the display. "Their feelings for Tobin, ah- _Extraction Specialist_ Tobin Adams, were genuine. They wanted to bring him into the dynamic. And save for no prior history of- um- what happened, it was completely organic. Apparently the rest didn't need an explanation, just like his relationship with Carol. The group's brainwaves are still unanimous, weird as it sounds, it was a natural progression. He's likable – _easy_ – safe. He just fits, sir."

"You know, if this was one of those old TV shows they used to make back on Earth I would be hella confused," Junior Lieutenant Theodore Douglas grumbled from the corner console. Staring blankly at a live feed of the sleeping pile.

"Honestly, this is ridiculous," Ensign Amy Harrison agreed, throwing up her hands. "First him and Master Chief Petty Officer Carol Peletier? Now this? There was no development! Just- _bam._ The logistics alone, and what? We're expected to just swallow it? I mean you can't deny Specialist Tobin isn't- uh… impressive. But-"

The Admiral tuned them out, leaning up against the railing of the main bridge as Reg came to join her, bumping shoulders companionably as their standing orbit kept A5-678-Beta more or less in view. Thinking about what she'd said to Specialist Tobin privately after the meeting in the Briefing Room before they'd been hooked up to the simulation.

_"We are stronger together than we are apart."_

Her lips curled into a small, half smile when she remembered his response.

So different from the usual "yes, ma'am's," that made up the majority of her interaction with the rest of her crew.

It had been realer than that.

_Better._

A gentle sort of affirmation that elevated itself from the rest.

It was the same feeling she'd felt in the simulation whenever he was nearby.

_Comfort._

That was what the man exuded. Broadcasting goodwill to the world at large like he had light-years to spare. And more than anything, that gave her hope. Because if that feeling could pass into the program with him, that was proof enough that anything could.

_Hope was the only virtue they had left to stand on now._

**Author's Note:**

> Reference:
> 
> \- The title “phosphenes” refers to the light and colors produced by rubbing your eyes.


End file.
